


Parallel Lives

by wheel_pen



Series: Miscellaneous Enterprise Stories [4]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Parallel Universes, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:03:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In one universe, they’re the Chief Engineer and Tactical Officer for the first warp-five starship. In another universe, they’re pets on a merchant vessel. Brief snippets from a slavery AU where the two universes collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

Captain Jonathan Archer of the merchant vessel _Enterprise_ had been looking forward to a quiet afternoon in his cabin with a book and a glass of beer, knowing that his First Officer had things well in hand on the Bridge. After the stressful trade negotiations they had just completed he felt like he'd earned a little peace and relaxation.

Unfortunately, his pets had other ideas.

Malcolm, at least, was just quietly snoozing in the corner as he often did, allowing the warm puffs of air from the heating vents to lull him into a doze. Jon liked seeing him there, so cozy and comfortable. However, he was likely to quit indulging in that activity soon, as Trip could never seem to resist poking at him when he saw the dark-haired man so utterly relaxed.

Sure enough, Jon saw Trip crawling stealthily over, grinning and snickering to himself so much he nearly gave the trick away. Jon thought about giving out a warning, but that would probably wake Malcolm just as much, and the man wouldn't be able to go back to sleep anyway, knowing that Trip was gunning for him. It would really just postpone the conflict, rather than end it.

So Jon shook his head and lifted the data pad a little higher, trying to be as completely disinterested in the proceedings as he could. Trip was just bored and looking for attention anyway. Unfortunately he could hardly ignore it when Trip shouted, "Tickle fest!" and pounced on Malcolm—both Jon and Malcolm were nearly on the ceiling with surprise.

Jon, at least, had a few seconds to recover as Trip and Malcolm began tumbling across the floor. He really couldn't tell if the pair were playing or fighting, and doubted if they knew themselves. Trip was probably playing, and Malcolm was probably fighting him off. Jon tried to go back to his book, determined not to give them attention for bad behavior, but then a gasp of actual pain drew him back.

Malcolm was on his knees, one hand covering his mouth protectively. Trip looked a little shocked and Jon could easily guess what had happened, especially when Malcolm rapidly turned his back on Trip's outstretched hand.

"Trip!" Jon admonished, setting the data pad aside. "How many times do I have to tell you to be careful when playing with Malcolm? You're bigger and stronger than he is."

"Yeah, but he's meaner and tougher," Trip tried, poking a grinning face around to Malcolm's. The dark-haired man shifted, turning his back again, and held out his arm pleadingly for his master.

Jon knelt in front of him and started to coax the hand over his mouth away. Trip kept getting in the way, whether out of concern or just cluelessness Jon wasn't certain. "Get over there," he snapped at Trip impatiently, pointing to the corner. "Go!" Dejectedly Trip crawled off, curling up against the wall with his back to the room.

Finally Jon got Malcolm to remove his hand from his face. If Jon was expecting gushing blood or a missing tooth, he was sorely disappointed—there was only a small red mark at the corner of his lip. Still, it would probably look worse when it had darkened to a bruise.

"You should put some ice on that," Jon instructed Malcolm, then looked past him to the blond on the floor. "Trip! I've about had it with you!" The other man's shoulders jerked in a cringe.

"Please, Master." As usual, the first defense of Trip came from Malcolm, even when it was Trip who had wronged him, and Trip was always more than willing to reciprocate. Jon supposed it was good that his pets had such a strong bond, but sometimes that made it d—n hard to discipline them properly. "I think—I think we're just getting a bit restless," Malcolm submitted hesitantly. "Couldn't—couldn't maybe Trip and I go to the gym for a while, or something?"


	2. Chapter 2

"We should _not_ being doing this," Malcolm remarked to his friend.

"Relax," Trip assured him. "We're just gonna take a quick look around, is all. No harm in that."

"Well if all you wanted was a 'quick look,' we might have stayed aboard our own ship," Malcolm shot back, glancing around. "The two ships appear to be the same in every detail."

"Everything but the crew," Trip corrected. Speaking of which, footsteps approached from around the corner and the two men quickly started looking for a place to hide.

"Commander?" The woman appeared to be an ensign, judging from the pips on her shoulder. Assuming the ranking system was the same in this universe, that is. "Is there a problem?" She glanced dubiously at the access tube Trip had attempted to climb into.

"No," Trip replied firmly, giving her a friendly smile. "Just, uh, checkin' out a problem with this panel here."

"Do you need some… tools or anything, sir?" the woman persisted, seeming more confused than suspicious.

Malcolm ducked his head down from the tube and gave her a stern gaze. "You have your own duties to attend to, Ensign?" he asked crisply.

The woman shot to attention. "Yes, sir!"

"Then get to them."

"Yes, sir." She disappeared around the corridor at a trot.

Trip grinned at Malcolm. "You're real good at that."

"I know," the other man smirked in return. "I think it would be best if we stuck to these crawl spaces for a bit, though." He hauled himself further up the ladder.

"Yeah, probably right," Trip agreed, following. "Hey, what was that she called me? Commander? That's pretty high up."

"Master said, there was another T'Pol as First Officer," Malcolm remarked, climbing to the next deck.

"I don't remember him sayin' that," Trip frowned.

Malcolm rolled his eyes. "You probably weren't listening. As usual. Anyway," he added, "if the _other_ you is a Commander, he can't be far below her in rank."

"I wonder what my job is," Trip mused thoughtfully. "I can't imagine goin' through all that Fleet training. Don't know how I'd even sit still." He poked the back of Malcolm's leg above him. "Hey, that lady seemed to recognize _you_ , too. And you must be something above an ensign." Malcolm snorted, occupied with trying to figure out how to open the next access panel. "What do you suppose _you_ do on this ship? Is there some person who gets to punish people who are bad?"

"Ha ha," Malcolm commented to him. "Listen, quit babbling and see if you can open this."

Trip squeezed himself up next to Malcolm in the tube. "I don't know, kinda cozy here," he smirked. "Maybe we should just stay awhile…" He leaned in for a kiss but Malcolm pulled back.

"This was _your_ idea," the dark-haired man reminded his companion. "And _when_ we get caught, and locked in Master's quarters without our supper, I should hope we'd have seen more of the ship than just this tube."

"You are _so_ particular," muttered Trip, but he nonetheless turned to regard the control circuits. "Aw, this is _just_ like what we've got. No fun at all."

"Well can you open it or not?" snapped Malcolm peevishly. "It's getting rather warm in here."

"Yeah, yeah, I saw Mr. Rostov do it once," Trip replied, poking at the controls. There was a hiss and a pop, and the access panel started to fall away. Trip grabbed it before it could hit the deck and carefully put it down himself, then hoisted himself out of the tube. He turned back to give Malcolm a hand.

"Commander." Trip whirled around and found himself face to face with a familiar Vulcan woman. Her hair was short and her uniform different, but the urge to drop to his knees out of respect was nearly overpowering. Only Malcolm pinching his leg kept him from doing it.

"T'Pol," he replied instead, awkwardly.

She looked him over. Same disdainfulness, at least. "Your clothing is non-regulation."

"Um, yeah, about that…" Trip was gratefully distracted by helping Malcolm out onto the deck, his mind spinning to come up with some plausible excuse. "Well, you see, the thing is—Uh, actually we were just—Um—"

Malcolm pulled out the routine that had worked before. "Is there something we can do for you, Commander?" he asked with great dignity, as though he were standing there in proper uniform.

T'Pol arched an eyebrow. "The Captain will be expecting a status report in seventeen point nine minutes," she reminded the men. "I trust the repairs are going well."

"Oh, yeah, real well," Trip assured her, nodding for emphasis.

The Vulcan looked as though she expected more, but Trip had nothing else to tell her. "I presume you still have tasks to complete in Engineering," she commented after a long moment.

"Absolutely," Malcolm assured her, sounding confident. "We were just headed that way, actually." He nudged Trip towards a lift. "Commander." With that the pair of them walked stiffly away, jumping into the next lift that arrived.

Trip sagged back against the wall when the doors had shut. "Geez! I thought we were _really_ gonna get caught that time," he confessed.

Malcolm chose the deck for Engineering and the lift whirred to life. "Yes, that _was_ odd, wasn't it?" he mused. "Unless of course she's _used_ to our counterparts finding themselves in bizarre, unexplainable situations. Which seems unlikely."

"Well, maybe we just fooled her," Trip suggested optimistically.

"No doubt the brilliance of your responses mollified her," Malcolm agreed sarcastically.

The lift deposited them on the proper deck just as Trip was giving Malcolm a _look_ , and they both quickly concentrated on making it to Engineering without being noticed. "I _never_ get to go to Engineering!" Trip whispered in delight as they snuck through the hinged door.

"And why is that?" Malcolm reminded him dryly.

Trip rolled his eyes. "I won't touch anything this time, I promise—Ooh, would you look at that!"

The warp engine—exactly like their own, as far as Malcolm could tell—pulsed and hummed, various buttons and panels glittering around it. Trip was staring at it like a man in love.

"Don't touch anything," Malcolm ordered, grabbing the arm that was reaching for something.

"Sorry," Trip replied guiltily. He glanced around. "I think maybe if we go over _here_ …" A few moments later the two of them were crouched behind some scaffolding, their dark clothing helping them to blend into the shadows.

"Look, there's Mr. Rostov," Malcolm pointed out, gesturing to one busy-looking crewmember.

"Isn't that Ms. Kelly?" Trip asked curiously, as another person walked by. "Why is she in Engineering and not the galley?"

"Well you might as well ask _why_ parallel universes exist at all," Malcolm told him with hushed exasperation. "Frankly I think it's bizarre enough that—" He broke off, staring at something.

"What?" prodded Trip.

"Commander," Malcolm breathed appreciatively, and Trip turned to see, well, _himself_ —sort of, climbing up the ladder to the warp controls.

"Oh my G-d," hissed Trip. "Look at my hair! What the h—l have I done to it?"

"You do look rather like a… straight arrow," Malcolm teased. "Very responsible."

"Shut up," Trip ordered him, shifting uncomfortably. It was kind of amusing seeing a second Rostov or T'Pol, but seeing someone who looked exactly like himself, but who definitely didn't _act_ like himself, was actually kind of disturbing. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," he finally suggested.

"Oh I don't know," Malcolm protested, stretching a little to better enjoy the view as the other Trip leaned over the stair railing. "I find it very intriguing. Although their uniforms aren't exactly the most flattering…"

"Doesn't seem to be stoppin' _you_ ," Trip grumbled.

Malcolm gave him another look. "For goodness sake, being jealous of _yourself_. How ridiculous!"

"Kelly, make sure those inertial dampeners are calibrated," the other Trip ordered. "Rostov, I want those EPS grids aligned by the end of shift!"

"Yes, sir!" someone barked in response.

"Mmmmm," Malcolm hummed pleasantly. "He's so commanding. Look how everyone just _jumps_ for him."

"I don't like it here anymore," Trip declared petulantly. "I wanna go home. I wanna see Master."

"Stop being a baby," Malcolm told him, beginning to forget that they were supposed to be hiding. "This was _your_ idea!"

"Well, now it's my idea to go home!" Trip countered, voice rising.

"I should think even _you_ would realize the odds were high there was another Trip aboard!" Malcolm snapped at him. "You should have thought about what it would be like to see him!"

"Um, Malcolm—" Trip began, staring over his shoulder.

Malcolm ignored his distraction technique. "I assure you, were _I_ to encounter this other Malcolm, _I_ wouldn't start whining and crying for Master!"

"Malcolm!" Trip grabbed his arm, then nodded behind the dark-haired man. Fearing he already knew what he would see, Malcolm slowly turned and found himself face to face with a phase pistol. Wielded by a very unamused-looking… himself.

Malcolm let out a yelp and scrambled backwards into Trip. "Don't move," the other Malcolm ordered, and indeed another crewmember was blocking the exit behind Trip. "Reed to the Captain," the other Malcolm continued into the comm system. "I've found a couple of unauthorized visitors. Shall I take them to the Brig?"

A familiar voice—or was it?—emanated from the speaker in response. " _From the other ship? Why don't you bring them to my Ready Room instead?_ "

"On my way, sir." The other Malcolm gestured menacingly with his phase pistol. "Get up, and get moving."

Trip obeyed immediately—he knew how his _own_ Malcolm got when he was testy—but the dark-haired man stayed on the ground, still looking the armed Malcolm up and down in shock. "Malcolm, come on," Trip encouraged, yanking on his arm. Finally the other man struggled to his feet.

"Well what in the h—l?" the other Trip, the Commander, exclaimed when the two men were flushed from their hiding spot.

"These would appear to be our counterparts in the other universe," the armed Malcolm remarked with distaste. "I'm to bring them to the Captain. Care to join me?"

"I think I better," Commander Trip decided. "What were they doin' over there? And why are they dressed like… hoochies?"

"What's a hoochie?" Trip asked his friend, but Malcolm was still staring at the other Malcolm with apprehension. Master never complained about their clothing.

"Move," they were ordered, and move they did.

"So, what do you do on this ship?" Trip asked the other Malcolm pleasantly as they walked down the hall. Several crewmembers stopped to stare at them as they passed.

"I'm the Tactical Officer, and head of security," the armed Malcolm answered stiffly, trying not to look at his pseudo-prisoners.

Trip nudged his friend. "You see there? You _do_ get to punish people who are bad!"

"Don't talk to… _him_!" Malcolm instructed fiercely.

"Why not?" Trip shrugged, grinning broadly. "I think it's kinda neat. Look, his hair flips up in back just like yours does!"

"Shut up," the two Malcolms ordered at the same time, then awkwardly looked away from each other. The two Trips smirked in amusement, at least until they spotted each other doing so.

Everyone on the Bridge stared as well when they exited the lift. "Lookit, there's Ms. Sato," Trip pointed out, nudging Malcolm. "And there's Mr. Mayweather. Oh, hello, Commander T'Pol." Malcolm clung to Trip's arm with both hands and said nothing.

The armed Malcolm pressed the door chime outside the Ready Room, then entered when he was given the signal. As soon as Malcolm saw the man he recognized as his master rising from the couch, he threw himself at his feet, distraught. "Oh, Master! It's horrible here! It's awful! Won't you take us home? I'm so sorry we came aboard! Master!"

"Calm down, it's alright," Jon assured him, sitting back down so he could better reach the other man.

Trip frowned, noting the attention his friend was getting, and tried to obtain some of it for himself. "Master!" he exclaimed, flinging his arms around Jon. "It's so _weird_ here! There's another _me_ , did you see? And another Malcolm!"

Across the room, the other Captain Archer raised an eyebrow and moved in front of his desk. He suspected his two officers could stand with a little comforting themselves, especially after witnessing their counterparts crawling on the floor in tight-fitting, low-slung leather pants and sleeveless, asymmetrically-cut shirts.

Jon looked up at the other Captain a bit sheepishly. "I apologize for the intrusion, Captain," he began quickly. "I hope they didn't cause any trouble."

The other Archer glanced at his officers, but all he got was a stony headshake from the other Malcolm and a muttered, "Frickin' _weird_ ," from the other Trip.

"I'm sure they didn't," he replied, adding generously, "If they would like to look around the ship, an escort can be arranged—" Other Malcolm and other Trip looked at him in horror as if to say, _You wouldn't dare make us!_

"Thank you, Captain," Jon told him, standing again, "but these two are going _directly_ back home, where they will _stay_. For quite some time."

"It was all _his_ fault," Malcolm pointed out for good measure, nodding at Trip.

 ***

"Are you allowed to be here?" Commander Tucker asked with some annoyance.

"Master said it was alright," the alternate-universe Malcolm replied, stretching leisurely along the stair railing in Engineering. "You can ask, if you don't believe me."

Tucker shook his head and tried to ignore him. Which was somewhat difficult, as the man seemed to be taking every opportunity to flex his muscles for Tucker, or anyone who happened by really, in a catlike, seductive manner that was about one hundred eighty degrees from any way Tucker could imagine the Malcolm Reed _he_ knew acting. Which was a pity.

"What a lovely _big_ engine," the other Malcolm purred appreciatively. "You take care of it all by yourself?"

"Yeah," Tucker told him shortly. "Everyone else in the room is just runnin' around for their health."

Malcolm chuckled, low and inviting. "You _are_ funny. I meant, you seem to be in _charge_ of the engine."

"Kinda goes with bein' the Chief Engineer," Tucker answered, hopping down the stairs away from the other man.

Malcolm followed gracefully. "You're terribly clever as well. I don't know, I'm not sure _my_ Trip could ever do this kind of thing…"

"Where _is_ your buddy, anyway?" Tucker asked, checking one of the computer panels. He didn't want the other _him_ jumping out of a corner somewhere. "Who's _he_ buggin'?"

"Probably the other _me_ ," Malcolm replied sarcastically, stretching up to tap his fingers against a piece of scaffolding over his head. The movement had the effect of exposing yet more of his sinuous figure. Tucker tried not to stare. "He seems a bit _disturbed_ by you."

"I know the feelin'," Tucker muttered, moving to another station. "What do you _want_ , anyway?" he continued, when the other man trailed him.

Malcolm shrugged. "Just to watch you. It's quite interesting, don't you think, to imagine what one _might_ have become?"

"I don't think 'interesting' is the word I'd choose," Tucker admitted. "This Trip of _yours_ ," he went on, unable to resist, "is he from Florida? What do his parents think about him bein' a… _pet_ on some merchant ship?"

"The _Enterprise_ is the merchant fleet's flagship," Malcolm pointed out, a touch defensive. "And Master is the star captain. I'm sure his parents would be quite proud of him, if they were alive." Tucker gave the other man a sharp look. "Although," Malcolm continued, "I suppose if they were alive, he wouldn't be a _pet_ in the first place. Only the orphaned and abandoned become pets, you know."

"No, I didn't know," Trip replied, a bit harshly. "We don't have that concept here."

"Anyway, if you really want to know, you should speak to _him_ ," Malcolm advised, clearly bored with the subject. "Or Master. He and Trip have been together for _many_ years. I think Master's father got Trip as a present for him when he finished some sort of higher education."

Tucker did some quick math in his head and shuddered. "Ugh," he commented, disgusted. "Wouldn't that make me—er, him—just a kid when, uh, Master got him?"

"I suppose," Malcolm shrugged. "Children can be raised to be very loyal pets, if one has the patience for them."

Tucker decided not to think about that any further. "How about you? When did _you_ enter the picture?"

"A few years ago, when Master became Captain of _Enterprise_ ," Malcolm revealed. "He was worried Trip might get bored and… troublesome out in deep space, if he didn't have a constant companion."

"Well shouldn't you be constantly companioning him, then?" Tucker snapped, finally reaching his limit of creepiness. "I know if _I_ was him, _I'd_ be feelin' like causin' some trouble pretty soon." Malcolm just smirked.

 ***

"You've been told not to hang about the Armory," Lt. Reed snipped at the man hovering outside the doors.

"Oh, I know," Trip agreed eagerly, following Reed down the hall. "That's why I didn't go in. But no one said I couldn't wait outside for you."

"I'm saying it," Reed informed him crisply. "Leave me alone. I have my duties to attend to."

"Well, I sure don't mean to bother you," Trip asserted earnestly.

"Yet you're doing it anyway."

Trip grinned. "You sound _just like_ my Malcolm sometimes, you know?" he observed, continuing to trail Reed.

"Why don't you go to Engineering and check on the repair status of your vessel?" Reed suggested coolly. "The sooner it's fixed, the sooner you and _your_ Malcolm can get home."

Trip shuddered a little. "I think it's kinda creepy down there," he confessed. "That other fella, he sure acts a lot different than me."

"Yes, well, I find _you_ creepy as well," Reed told him baldly.

The man was nothing if not dogged, however. "But I think it's kinda neat that he's so smart and all," Trip continued, rounding a corner with Reed. "He sure knows a lot, don't you think?"

"Commander Tucker _is_ quite skilled," Reed agreed.

"I bet he went to school a lot," Trip guessed. "I never went to school myself, you know. But Master taught me how to read and stuff when I was little, and I've learned how to do all kinds of stuff on starships." Lest he sound like he was bragging he added quickly, "Although not nearly as much as _your_ Trip, I'm sure."

"He's not _my_ Tr—Commander Tucker," Reed told the man sharply, waiting impatiently for the lift to arrive.

"Well that's too bad," Trip commented, and Reed looked at him with a frown. "I mean, all these folks out in deep space, hardly anyone around, how do you keep from goin' stir-crazy if no one's gettin' it on with each other?"

Of course just as he said that the lift arrived, spilling out some ensigns who looked from scantily-clad Trip to prim and proper Reed with amusement. Reed glared them down, then jumped onto the lift and sighed when he saw Trip following him. "Don't you have somewhere else you could be?" he asked with annoyance.

"Master's busy talkin' to your Captain," Trip pointed out. "And Malcolm keeps wantin' to hang out in Engineering. But I like _you_. You remind me of Malcolm sometimes." Reed barely refrained from rolling his eyes and instead stood stiffly, staring straight forward. Trip snickered a little at that. "Malcolm used to do _just that_ sort of thing," he revealed. "All that military bearing stuff. Took me and Master _months_ to get it out of him. Guess his previous masters liked it, though."

"I don't wish to continue this discussion," Reed informed him uncomfortably.

"Okay, sorry," Trip apologized. The lift stopped and he trailed Reed off. "Just—I think Malcolm's real happy now, with me and Master. He wasn't real happy before, but I think he's okay now. Just so you know."

"Perhaps he'd be even happier if he were allowed to make his own choices in life," Reed snapped before he could stop himself. "To have a career, for example."

Trip looked at him strangely. "Well, he was never gonna have a _career_ ," he remarked. "You gotta follow in your family's footsteps in _our_ world. And if you haven't _got_ a family, then most of the time, you gotta be a pet. Or a laborer or something."

"What do you mean, he didn't have a _family_?" Reed scoffed, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "In _this_ universe, the Reeds have been naval officers for generations."

"Well, maybe they have in _our_ universe, too," Trip shrugged, "but I never heard that Malcolm's family name was Reed. He was found by the side of the road when he was just a little nipper. Barely remembered his _first_ name, let alone anything else. Figured he'd been abandoned."

Reed stared at him, feeling more disturbed by the moment. He should have known better than to get into a conversation with this man. "Abandoned?"

Trip shrugged, then brightened. "Hey, maybe if you tell Master your folks' names, he can look them up in _our_ universe! Maybe _my_ Malcolm has the same folks. Course," he added thoughtfully, "he probably wouldn't want to see them, if they dumped him by the side of the road…"

"No, I should think not," Reed replied frostily.


End file.
